


Galileo

by papaversomni



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, BAMF Ginny Weasley, Comedy, Explicit Language, Physics, Rare Pairings, crime/mystery, hermione needs sleep, i'm pairings trash, in which pansy is a badass prosecutor and i have no regrets, ron weasley doesn't know what to do but he's trying, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papaversomni/pseuds/papaversomni
Summary: Today was not a good day for Mr. Potter of 12 Grimmauld Place. His positively unfortunate hangover had taken first place in terms of the week’s misfortunes, but the disappearance of a murderer was pulling a close second.(Or: Modern-day muggle AU where everyone’s a snarky prosecutor/cop/harried lecturer, but no one pays mind to Hermione’s rising blood pressure. There’s murder! Mystery! Intrigue! Slow-burn dramione with bossbabe!Pansy! )





	Galileo

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-o, just your average Muggle AU where Harry is an overworked and underpaid superintendent, Pansy is a terrifying prosecutor, and Hermione just needs to sleep. Hope this is alright!

**Chapter 1. Inertia**

Draco woke with a headache, two pairs of broken glasses, and one shoe. He didn’t wear glasses, and the shoe wasn’t his, so this presented him with something of a conundrum. Neville was secretly wild, but his bachelor’s party couldn’t have gone _that_ out of hand.

Saint Potter had attempted twerking to one of Finnigan’s Irish jigs — if Zabini didn’t secure footage, their friendship was over — and Weasley repeated the same three lines of “Wrecking Ball” for an hour, but...the shoe? While Neville certainly could’ve slipped into a pair of saucy heels around their seventeenth round, Draco doubted he was a size six.

' _What time is it?’_

A pounding migraine terminated his attempt at rising. Subject to gravity, Draco found himself in a rather unfortunate reunion with the ground. “Son of a _bit_ -”

“Now now Draco, wouldn’t want to be carted off for speaking in the third person.”

The thump of heels hitting cherry wood flooring beat in rhythm with Draco’s pulsing temple as the tall intruder bent down to his level, proffering a steaming mug. “Drink up, sleeping beauty.”

“Sod..off...God in a fucking…Zabini.”  

Words were _difficult_. Nonetheless, Draco threw his head back and felt the pressure in his skull recede.

“Oh captain, my captain, how eloquent are thee in thy early hours.” Blaise teased, plucking the glass from his friend’s hands and setting it on a side table. “Now get up, Harry’s fallen asleep hugging the watercooler, and I’m sure you don’t want to miss that.”

“If you don’t get...foot...footage, we’re never speaking again.”

“Funny, I didn’t know you _could_ speak anymore.”

»»--------------------------««

The strength of Harry’s credibility was surprising in light of his propensity towards ridiculousness. Hermione practised her breathing exercises. “Harry James Potter, the next time you come to work positively legless, I’ll ship you off to Australia myself.”

“Ah, _Hedgehog_. I’d give that threat a seven-out-of-ten.”

 _‘Of course.’_ She found herself biting back her anger. If anyone was watching carefully, they would’ve noticed a thirty per cent increase in hair volume. _‘As if today wasn’t difficult enough.’_   Teach an eight A.M. class, her advisors said. It’ll be _fine_ . Things were absolutely _fine_ if the definition of _fine_ was consuming inhuman amounts of caffeine, dealing with the drinking games of men-children, and refraining from the prompt strangulation of a poncy little-

“What a delight to see you here. Come to reign in the ickle Teapot?”  

At the sight of Hermione, Draco’s hands twitched, resisting the urge to brush out her hair’s rampant frizziness. As someone who singlehandedly held up the comb and gel industries, such blatant disregard of appearance was rather disconcerting. Quite honestly, her presentation was _normally_ disconcerting, but a lack of alcohol to wash down his distaste made it positively _shocking_. “Blaise, do remind me to introduce Granger to the wonders of hair care,” he murmured to the man on his left.

“Of course, of course, when you introduce me to a salary.”

Draco gasped, hand on his chest. “The _sass_ , Jeeves.”

“Right then.” Hermione lowered the report she was waving at Harry. _‘Calm down for your blood pressure, Hermione, mind your blood pressure.’_ Smoothing out her cream linen suit, she turned to give the newcomers a tight smile. “Blaise, I trust you to be the sole sane one. Try to keep them from being locked up at their own station. I’ll be teaching a night class, so you and Ginny have the flat to yourselves tonight.” She paused. The smile became more of a smirk as she gathered up her briefcase and folders. “Do try to keep from breaking any more bed springs, you know how they affect her back on game day.” With that, she strode out of the police station into a waiting cab.

»»--------------------------««

Today was not a good day for Mr. Potter of 12 Grimmauld Place. His positively unfortunate hangover had taken first place in terms of the week’s misfortunes, but the disappearance of a murderer was pulling a close second.

Several sticky notes drifted onto the floor as his desk lamp flickered, and Harry crossed and uncrossed his legs. Attempting to be vaguely official was becoming exponentially difficult, not to mention when he was two shots away from death’s door less than ten hours ago.

“What do you _mean_ the predictions have to be scrapped, Nott?”

Theo sighed, shifting in the chilly metal seat. “I _mean_ that the patterns we laid out were rubbish. It’s been a year and a half since the last murder, which didn’t even _fit_ our previous profile. This doesn’t mean the murderer has stopped, but connectable activity has ceased. I think we’ve entered a cooling period.” Taking a sip from his coffee, he stared down the teetering piles of paper that threaten to avalanche, wondering what would happen if, on a whim, he sighed just a bit too hard on his boss’ ‘in’ stack.  

“Right. Well…” Harry polished his glasses, busying his hands as he thought. “It’s not like we have a timebar. I know there’s been talk of scaling back our resources, but we’ll catch the bastard. It’ll just have to be on the backburner for now.” He slid the wireframes back on, already turning back to his paperwork. “Pull out all of the files from the very beginning. I want every rag, interview, and projection in conference room seven. Tell Malfoy and Weasley that they’re being transferred, we need new eyes, and I need them for more pressing cases. Call in Fleur and Hannah while you’re at it.”

Sensing his dismissal, Theo stood, silently contemplating the man before him. “Is that all?”

“If you could ask Blaise to do a coffee run in the evening, we’re going to be staying late.”

A few minutes after Harry’s door had been closed, Blaise’s voice thundered from down the hallway “No matter what Draco believes, I’m _not_ anyone’s maid, Potter.”

»»--------------------------««

There was a reason Pansy’s eyes were dark. It wasn’t due to genetics or contacts or even surgery. No. Her eyes were dark because she was up to her eyebrows with all the _shit_ she had to deal with.

Okay, _yes_ , ordering a skim, extra shot, extra hot, extra whip, sugar-free macchiato in an avocado skin was a _tad_ ludicrous, but at least she wasn’t Ginny — the redhead had shown up with a Premier League trophy replica and asked for a nonfat latte with 2 per cent foam. That woman was _sadistic_.

Pansy approved.

Her order was a tad ludicrous, but she had contracts to sign, people to prosecute, and Instagram photos to take. She had to be in the courtroom in an hour, and it had taken them just as long to construct an acceptable product for her _simple_ request. To most, this would be grounds for a pedantic Yelp review. To Pansy, this sounded like grounds for a lawsuit. Emotional distress.  She was a busy woman.

“A skim, extra shot, extra hot, extra whip, sugar-free-” The barista paused to breathe, “-macchiato in an avocado skin for...‘Queen’?”

Nine bird’s eye view and one three-quarter shot (Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter) and Pansy was out the door, leaving nothing but a still-full avocado skin in the rubbish bin. It was like something out of Cinderella — if Cinderella was an everlasting bitch.

“Parkinson!”

“Mr. Suave Sicilian.” Pansy nodded her head in acknowledgment, bob brushing against sharp cheekbones. She’d suspected they could cut a man if need be, but she hadn’t had the chance to verify. Pity. “What can I do you for, Blaise?”

“I’m afraid my body cannot be bought, I’m trying funny little trend called ‘monogamy’. Never heard of it before, but I thought I’d give it a go.” He cracked a smirk at her,  and Pansy rolled her eyes.

“I have an arsonist to grill in twenty.”

Glancing at his watch, Blaise lifted an eyebrow. “Alright, alright. I just wanted to tell you that they’re changing hands on the case.”

She looked up from her nails, the disinterest melting away. “Do they have a prosecutor in mind?”

“You look like a cat that’s found the mouse den. It’s frightening really. Maybe you should try smiling like that as an intimidation tactic.”

“ _Blaise._ ”

“Oh hush. They don’t. Rumour is that the old team was scrapped when the results stopped showing. I’d get in good with Potter.”

“That’s a such a defence attorney tactic, Blaise.”

“Now now, you say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is when in association with you.” She snorted. “ You’re an attorney in name only, practically everyone thinks you’re one of the bizzies.”

“Ah, the plight of the idle rich.” Blaise hung his head, not even bothering to hide his teasing smirk. “Well. I must be off. Does the _working_ rich have any coffeeshop recommendations for the idle rich and his  pet officers?”

Pansy tapped a neatly manicured finger against her lips before smiling sweetly. “I’d try Bean There in Mayfair. Tell them ‘Queen’ sent you.”


End file.
